


Small things

by relevant



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Character Study, Gen, M/M, Post War, everyone else than Brad only gets mentioned, ficklet, if it matters, nate/brad only if you squint, ofc is a sister, shipper googles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 03:52:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relevant/pseuds/relevant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it's hard to remember that you're not supposed to share.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small things

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer : Own nothing except words arranged. This has about as much to do with the real people as my cat has with a tiger.

He wasn’t surprised about most of the things. Waking up without being able to sleep for more than 3 hours straight just meant more time to catch up with everything that had gone amiss while he was away, and while he sure checked for potential attackers more carefully than any regular civvie; at last no one was about to mug him without this Marines notice.

 

He mostly was ok with driving under bridges and if his shoulders bunched up and he had to stare straight ( not turning head to side still felt like long time ago learned and mostly unused skill) it was fine, and as long as he didn’t check his vehicle for bombs - he was coping.

 

It was little things that pissed him off. Automatically falling into making his movements unnoticed even when he was fucking alone in the home, hitting the head at 0500. Or the coffee. No, scratch that, the worst had been his overbearing sister coming up to check on his ass and dragging him to one of these places where you had to know a whole new language just to get your cup of coffee.

It had been going on fine, at first there had been worry in her eyes, but along the time when he starred down the college boy on the other side of counter, assuring him that he is sure that he just wants large, black and hot while they're at it. She had chastised him about being an ass, but most of the worry had seeped out of her eyes and it was worth jarring up the barista; he had combat money to be generous with the tip.

And then, after he had gulped down some, still looking at her, listening how her youngest had refused to wear anything else than rain boots, for a week. He had picked up his coffee and offered it to her, like it was the most natural thing to do.

 

He wished he had been with anyone else. Ray would have made a scene out of it, laughing that while he’s a poor country hick, he still can by his own joe. Fucker Poke would have risen his own, making it a salut. But most of all he wished it had been Fick, sitting on the other side of the table. Fick who would have just accepted the coffee, without a break in his story, drunk some and offered it back.

 

The day when he would take Persons jarring over his own sister. Because while he loved her, even if it wasn’t really said out loud, she froze, giving him a stare like he had just opened his zipper and dropped his pants. His hand didn’t shake, he just had to put it down. And the look of worry that he had been drifting away for most of the day was back on full strength.

 

The silence couldn’t have been going on for more than a few seconds and they got back to banter soon enough, but he was pissed. He always had been more over there, a creature mostly engineered by Marine Corps, but he had known how to play it better.

Brad made himself smile, and while it felt weird, he drunk the rest off his coffee himself, making sure that no stupid war time habits snuck out without his direct orders.

 

It went fine, they talked for a bit more, but then she had to get back, after promising to visit soon, or she was going to drag the rest of the family there, and camp on his yard for a week.

 

That night Brad watched himself closely. He made sure to create appropriate amount on noise while shifting around in the night, and drank four cups of coffee, all by himself, making sure to not let his hand holding the cup move to the side. Normal world meant not sharing your coffee with bunch of other guys, meant not looking and smelling like a hobo.

Later, he blamed the caffeine buzz that made his hand reach out and dial a number he shouldn’t have in the first place. It ringed twice before the other side answered, awake, alive, and he wanted…


End file.
